


Stealing Leads To Nothing...Except For This

by anxious_fangirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accidents, Anxiety, Awkward Conversations, Awkward Flirting, Awkwardness, Blackouts, Caretaker Dean, Castiel is a Little Shit, Castiel is a Sweetheart, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dean is a Little Shit, Dean is a Softie, Depression, Emotional, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fainting, Father Figures, Gabriel Being Gabriel, Hallucifer, Hallucinations, Hugs, Loving Castiel, Loving Gabriel, Nephilim, Nice Lucifer, Prayer, Protective Castiel, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Gabriel, Protective Lucifer, Sam is a Little Shit, Sam is a Saint, Saving People Hunting Things, Self-Harm, Sick Character, Sick Sam Winchester, Stealing, Torture, Visions, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-05-13 18:29:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5712682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anxious_fangirl/pseuds/anxious_fangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It all started when she stole the wrong man's wallet...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am going back through AAAAALLLLLLLLLLLLL of my chapters--and as you can see, they've all been deleted--and I'm updating and revising aallllllll of them.
> 
> So please hang-on as I'm reposting them, and yes there will be additions and changes to what I had posted before, so please, reread them, because there will be added information that I left out in my earlier chapters.
> 
> And it's really hard to work off of my phone, but I'm working with what I've got, so please just bare with me as I slowly start to repost my revised chapters :)

It was the 30th of September and I haven't been able to pay my rent for the past couple of months. The landlord was kind, knowing I continued to work hard and break my back just to support myself as much as I could, working minium wage for roughly 12 to 16 hours a day, only gaining about 5 or 6 hours of sleep; but I was used to it.

It was one of the hottest days leading up to the coming Fall, and the skirt and thin-cotton blouse I was wearing were still making me sweat to fill a pool. Of course, there was no breeze either as I struggled through each step with my black flats on as they clicked against the sidewalk, killing my spirit with every step.

I was on my way home, back to my apartment to draw a nice cold bath, getting off of work at midnight. Considering I barely made ends meet, I didn't own a car, so I had to walk everywhere. And although it's going on 12:30 in the morning, the heat still stung into my skin, but it was only going to get hotter as the day dragged on into the afternoon where the sun would be resting high in the crystal-blue sky.

My apartment was about 8 blocks away now and I just couldn't wait to take off these sticky, smelly clothes, un-pin my long hair, and relax into a nice bathtub filled up to the brim with nice, cool water and maybe catch some zzz's--hopefully without drowning; that would be quite the way to go, that's for sure.

Just a few more blocks left...

Oh but it felt like millions of miles away in this heat, and wearing these clingy-clothes which reeked of long, hard hours of back breaking work didn't help with the situation either.

For the record, I worked at the 4-star hotel/restaurant in my little city of Nephi, Utah, which was constantly busy, even if it was 12 in the afternoon or 12 in the morning. I work behind the bar making drinks, push a cart down the long hallways to refill towels and other necessities in the rooms, and help as a "back-up" manager by ordering people to do these things while I continue to rush around on my feet.

But now, I put in about 14 hours of work in just today and luckily it was Friday, so no work for two days...unless I get called in to work in case they don't have enough people on hand...Mmm, yeah, the perks of working at a hotel/restaurant: barely having time to relax and enjoy being alive.

I sighed and rubbed a hand down my face, feeling the soles of feet starting to burn as I closed in on my apartment with only 5 blocks left to trek. I puffed out a breath of air and surveyed the businesses I was passing, feeling bored, considering my phone had died hours ago at work.

There wasn't much traffic, but there were a few cars parked here and there at certain houses or businesses. The salon to my right, for example, has been closed for over 6 hours, and was going to open in about 9 hours. The diner to my left runs 24/7 and always fragrances the air with the smells of sizzling bacon and eggs, even if it was 11 at night.

I passed the bank as I was only 4 blocks away from my apartment now. This also was a 24/7 business, but there was only one car in the vast parking lot. Hmm, one car, which means there has to be at least a minimum of one person inside...Mmm, too bad stealing from a bank is highly illegal, or else I would be able to pay off my rent and maybe move somewhere nice. But I don't want to go to jail--again.

I sighed and laughed slightly, forming a small grin on my face. Yeah, I've been to jail before for stealing, but it all started back when I grew up with my mother, who looked over my shoulder with the eyes on the back of her head--however, she was the one who taught me how to steal in the first place. I laughed again and shook my head, focusing back on my surroundings.

Up ahead sat the very lonely and very run-down motel an elderly couple ran, with bland brown and white stuco-walls and dirty windows with a red LED sign out front, missing a couple of the letters from the word "VACANCY". A few cars were parked there, which was very surprising to me, but then again, this motel was much cheaper to rent a room than the one I worked at.

I stopped in my tracks as I saw a certain car sitting in the parking lot. I don't know what was so special about this car that drew me forward, but it seemed almost familiar to my eyes.

It was a Chevy because I could make out the tag on the silver grill as it reflected in the light from the streetlamp next to it. It was also black, but nothing I could make out about it were ringing any bells in my head as why this car would ever be important to me.

However....

Okay, going off of a limb here. This has to be a late 60s car, which means it's very vintage and very expensive.

Okay, okay. Before I burst of excitement, I need to collect my thoughts here.

The owner or owners of this car, must be filthy rich. I mean, I know I'm assuming, but I'm just taking the facts I can see at the moment.

To maintain a car of this magnitude and age? You have to have a few dollar bills shoved-up your sleeves.

I wanted to run over to the car so badly so I could hot-wire it--yes, my mom taught me that, too--and see if there was anything valuable in there and then sell the car for an even larger profit. Not to mention, I want to know who the owners of this car are so I can possibly steal their thick wallets, spilling money everywhere. Hey, I have to pay off my rent somehow, but was more jail time worth it all in the end?

I hadn't even noticed I had been standing on the same patch of sidewalk as I was staring at this car. I blinked and shifted my weight to my other leg, unsure of what to do any more.

Do I go back to my apartment and wait till morning to see who owned this amazing car, or do I go in for the kill, right now, and risk my entire future plate?

"Shit," I mumbled to myself and shook my head, slowly turning to head back down my previous path to reach my apartment before combusting into flames on the spot.

For the rest of the last 3 blocks, my mind was completely jumbled on what to do and how to approach my various situations. Okay, but first things first, I deserve that bathtub of refreshing water.

And then I can decide on those wallets, which were sweetly calling my name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even though this is only ONE chapter I have revised so far, I already feel that the plot is flowing much easier now.
> 
> Again, please stay patient and calm as I slowly update and fix my next chapters, as I will attempt to post them at least every day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I FEEL LIKE I'M DEPRIVING YOU GUYS SO MUCH!!!! I MEANT TO POST YESTERDAY AND EVEN THE DAYS BEFORE THAT, BUT I'M FALLING BEHIND AND I ALSO HAVE SCHOOL TO WORRY ABOUT SO PLEASE FORGIVE ME. TAKE THIS REVISED AND FIXED CHAPTER AS A PEACE OFFERING ^*^

I'm able to make it home before spontaneously combusting into flames from the growing heat. I throw down my purse, kick off my shoes and almost run into the bathroom to draw my bath before I melt--adding soap for bubbles.

In the meantime, while the tub is filling up, I decide to fill up my stomach, which had been growling at me for the past few hours because I had to eat a light lunch and dinner, considering how packed we got today. Not finding much to munch-on, I retire to my room and grab a pair of shorts and a flimsy tank top. I finally return to the bathroom and set my clothes down on the countertop as I turn off the faucet.

I peel out of my clothes, feeling the cold air hit my exposed skin, and then the neutral-warm water as I slowly lower myself into the tub. I sigh in relief as I lay down and put my feet by the once-running faucet and lean my head back.

I un-pin my hair from its style and let it float around me, absorbing the water and white bubbles. I lean up against the tub wall, taking in a deep breath and then releasing it, closing my eyes from exhaustion. The gentle sloshing of the water and popping of the bubbles are what lull me to sleep.

*

I wake-up to half of my face under water and I flail around, trying to get a grip on the tub and pull myself up so I don't drown. At the same time, I'm still half asleep, so it must have looked pretty embarrassing, but luckily I live alone--even if that sounds really sad to admit that so casually.

Rubbing my eyes and squinting at the clock, it read about 8:40 AM Saturday morning--Thank God I didn't have to work today. I sighed and relaxed back down in the tub, enjoying another half-an-hour of peace and quiet until I got dressed for the day with the clothes I had set out hours ago.

Finally able to drag myself up from the tub, I turned on the shower head to quickly wash my hair thoroughly. Finally completed in my tasks, I pulled the plug to let my water bill hike-up evn more. I climbed out, wrapping a towel around myself and then got dressed and headed back into the kitchen in search of a half-assed breakfast.

Sighing from no luck, I grabbed my purse with my 30 dollars and extra change and headed out the door, determined to pleasure myself at one of the diners in town.

I had made sure to also grab my sunglasses and slip on my flip-flops, because it was going to be Hellishly-hot today; my hair was also going to get instantly dried--which was a plus.

You would think being so close to the fall that our summer would finally go away, but, personally, I would rather have this than snow and freezing your ass-off.

But it is really strange to have such a long and miserable summer for this long into September and October. Clearly something is up...and you have to blame somebody, so, weathermen/women, please explain this to me?

*

I exited my apartment building and the sun was already making me depressed to even be outside. If only I had a car, but in order to have a car you need money, and in order to have money you need to have a good paying job and also a supportive husband by my age. In all actuality, I shouldn't even be living in Utah in an apartment, but college funds were up and down...

Yeah, I went to college in California, which was the biggest and most fattest mistake I have ever made. Not only did I move half way across the country, but I also relied on the very few scholarships and awards I got to use to go to this school in the first place. Eventually, financial troubles caught up with me and I started to move back to my home in Kansas, but, this is all the further I got.

I actually never wanted to get back home really--I just didn't want to be in California anymore and I just thought that my mom and I might make amends and maybe she would forgive me. But then again, I also didn't want to be anywhere near Kansas, so I guess I settled for in the middle, which happened to be Utah.

Although I was running out of money during my travels, I still found ways to steal or hustle people out of their crisp cash. It started as simple pickpockets on the streets, but then it upgraded to doing challenges at bars at the pool tables. Overtime, I got better and better until I got caught that one fateful day, and the people obviously pressed charges and then I was suddenly sitting in a court room, and then behind bars for a few months; I got out early because of "good behavior", and thank God I did.

I sighed, so caught-up in my thoughts, and I hands even noticed i had walked enough blocks to get to that kettle diner I had passed late last night--or was it early this morning? Same difference.

I barely even walked into the parking lot, with sweat on my brow and partially breathing heavily (you think I would be in shape by now), when I spotted it. Just sitting there in the morning sunlight. It was just sitting there.

"It", was that same black Chevy from...early this morning, that I saw on my way home. The same Chevy that must belong to an old couple or some young punk...funny I say that because I'm pretty sure I'm a hypocrite.

I smiled shortly, freezing back up in fear. I haven't stole something for, well, a very long time--even if it just was a simple wallet. Knowing my wonderful luck in life, I was probably going to get caught again and then even more jail time and then I'll never get a job once I'm fired from the one I'm got and...yeah, it's all just going to snowball.

I gathered my courage and stepped through the doors, hoping to spot a couple or maybe some random dude who would drive something like that. I looked around and spotted 2 men--one with long brown hair and very tall, even though he was sitting down, and another one with shorter hair, but yet looking older than the other. Were these my next victims? Well, considering we were the only people in the diner (besides the ones that worked there), these had to be the two.

I picked a booth about 10 feet away from them, but I could feel the tension and the invisible electricity in the air as I got more and more jumpy, hoping I wouldn't screw-up on one simple little task. These men looked intimidating, and not exactly the kind of people you would steal from, even if it was a single penny.

In all honesty, I just wanted to pay my late rent and just feel normal for a little bit, before I was sent to jail obviously. I laughed on the inside, but Lord was I dying; Hell, I might even pass out before I get the job done.

A waitress came over, sending me out of my thoughts, to ask what I would be having.

I replied saying, "2 eggs. Scrambled. Bacon on the side. And coffee. Black." I smiled a thanks as she walked away to take the two men's orders.

How strange, considering that they had to have been here for a good 10 minute before I arrived---but they told her their orders anyways, and I didn't question it further.

As I waited for my food, I eavesdropped on their conversations, talking about "ghosts" and "demon activity". Were they satanic, a spin-off of 'Ghostbusters', or just plain crazy? Either way, I didn't want to listen anymore, so I started to plot on how exactly to steal their wallets without them knowing.

I could do the casual "Sorry. Clumsy me." gig by bumping into one of them, but I'm Tom pretty sure that only works at bars and not 10 AM, plus I don't think that would work on these guys anyways.

Maybe I could pretend to be a waitress--but no, they probably saw me walk in here. Maybe I could befriend them in someway--but how? Or maybe I could pretend to be really interested in their car and get a little too close for comfort? I could use my old and rusty lockpicks to get into their motel room and see what they got in there.

The waitress came with my food, which I quickly devoured in record time before the men in front of me got their's. I finished my food so quickly because, A) I was freaking out like the world was coming to an end, which mine actually might, and B) I have been starving for a while now, so I'm Tom clearly deserved to eat all of this.

I went through all of the different scenarios again in my head, deciding on which one or which ones to do. Suddenly, the taller one is starting to slide out of the booth and I take my chance full-on. As he stands up, I bump into him, fishing out his wallet from his back pocket, putting it into my own pocket before anyone notices, and quickly start apologizing, saying "I'm so sorry" over and over again, flaking both of them a smile before I head to the bathroom.

Once inside, I lock the door, pulling out the wallet and checking out how rich these mystery men really were. There were about 6 different credit cars with 6 different names printed on them, all signed on the back too--that was a plus. There were a few pictures of this man and what looked to be his girlfriend or maybe his wife, and also with that other man who was at the table with him--couldn't care less about the pictures. In cash money, he had about-I started counting it-85 dollars--also another plus. I took some of the cash and also 3 of the cards as I opened up the locked door and threw the wallet over by the men's bathroom.

I returned to my booth, paid for the meal, and quickly walked out with a renewed skip in my step. I smiled to myself, but had to quickly wipe it off so no one would suspect anything. Little did I know--at the time--that I had stolen his wallet like an amateur.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After such a long wait, I present you all with another revised and better-sounding/flowing chapter

I was heading out the door, feeling the weight of guilt on my shoulders once the realization started to set in. I actually stole. I stole some random guy's wallet. Why? Because I need to pay off my rent and survive for a few more months. But maybe I should just buy a bus ticket and get the hell out of here; they were going to track me down, and I knew it. Maybe I should just turn around and give myself up--it would be better than having to worry about two extra shadows on my ass.

I got to the edge of the parking lot to walk down the sidewalk, to head back to my apartment, when I could sense eyes on the back of my head--a feeling I have gotten used to over the years, but never forgot.

I quickened my pace, but not in a noticeable manner. I pulled out my phone, pressing #3 on my speed dial. A trick I learned was to pretend, or in my situation, really talk to family or a friend on your phone to make people leave you alone--just like pretending you're listening to music through your headphones when you're really not listening to anything.

"Hey, Sav," I said through my phone, then paused, really waiting for a response; I let out a laugh then continued, "Yeah, I know. Same, girl, same. Listen, uh, I was just wondering about that party coming up," I paused, waiting for a response,"Really? What made her change her mind? Was it Sam or Bree? It was probably Sam, wasn't it?"

Every few seconds would be dedicated to a response on the other end. I tried to drag on the conversation; I was good at winging things on the spot, especially now. And at the moment, I needed to continue talking or else those two very intimidating men were going to kill me.

"Yeah," I said into the phone, "Maria and Sam haven't been getting along recently----Why? Oh, probably because Sam betrayed her in the worst way possible, which I would rather not talk about over the phone right now, but, I'll give you a hint: relationship trouble.---Yeah, I know, I know.---Things, well, could be better---Yeah, that problem.---Oh God yes."

I continued doing this, even when the black Chevy slowly drove past me. I put my head down and started laughing into the phone, then continued to talk, watching the car continue down the road to pull into the motel parking lot.

I began to get fidgety, but why? Did they know it was me? I tried to tone-down my now spiking anxiety levels, and tried to stay calm and play cool. I started to walk past the motel parking lot, so I cast a quick glance that way, continuing to talk to the person on the other end. The two men weren't in sight, but that didn't make me any less anxious--if anything, it just made me worry more.

I passed the parking lot and sighed into the phone, "Yeah, Sam is so---What?---Oh yes, I knew that. That's old news girl, old news.---What? No, are you kidding? I'm not interested. Sam isn't my type, Savi, you know that.---Huh?---No, I mean, maybe, if you're going, I'll go too, but I'm not making a move on him, that's basically suicide.---Hey, no, wait, why don't you go for him?"

I was started to annoy myself by continuing this conversation, but I just wanted to get back to my apartment, where I knew I could be safe. Now, if only I wouldn't have the tingling feeling going on on the back of my neck and arms--the feeling of being watched and followed--that would be great.

I was about 3 blocks away from my apartment when I heard the footsteps behind me, but I continued my conversation with my heart hammering in my chest. The footsteps were getting closer, but I just kept on walking--no, I pushed myself to keep walking or else I would be frozen in place or possible have my knees buckle beneath me.

I started to shake more, even though it was 75 degrees and sunny. Usually--well, I should say 'back when I used to steal for a living'--I never got this antsy, even when I was sent to jail; hell, I was smiling the a few times in court. But there was something, eerie, about these men that scared me; they gave off that mysterious vibe that gave everyone--living or dead--the chills.

"Oh," I said into the phone, "You're going to send me a picture of the project? Well, hang on, I'll open it up now, give me a sec."

I moved the phone from my ear and quickly opened my gallery to pull up a random picture--I was probably confusing my friend. I tilted the screen so I could see behind me--also another trick I learned over the years. And sure enough, there they were in close tow.

I exited out of my gallery and put my phone back up to my ear, "Yeah, it looks really good. Sam sure as hell should be jealous now," I rubbed a hand over my face as I pretended to be listening," No, I was joking about the whole Sam thing, it's sarcasm Sav. God, what am I going to do with you?," I paused, laughing.

"Hey, Sav," I interrupted her,"Hey, shush. I got two extra things for the project. M'kay? I got--What? Sav. I got the two extra materials.--Yes.--This is why I called you in the first place.--So what time will you get here?--Okay, I'll be waiting, trust me," I whispered the last two words.

I hung-up and listened for footsteps behind me, but I didn't hear any. I did my little phone trick again, but I didn't see them behind me. Oh no--I started to freak out even more. I was just one lonely block away from apartment , but it seemed so far away, especially now. God, I shouldn't have hung-up on my friend.

I checked the surrounding sidewalks, glancing this way and that, hoping to catch something out of the corner of my eye. I was on edge by the time I got to the apartment parking lot. I pulled out my building key to unlock the door, but suddenly I'm being turned around and slammed up against the door by strong arms.

The two men who owned the car, who were having a peaceful breakfast, and also the ones who were following me all the way home, were right in front of me. Right. In. Front. Of. Me.

The short, green-eyed one had me pinned up against the door, while the tall one looked me up and down with a scowl.

"This her?" the green-eyed one asked the tall one without taking his eyes off of me.

The sasquatch of a man looked at me dead in the eyes, making me completely uncomfortable and very unsafe. He slowly started to nod, but then stopped, shaking his head back and forth.

"Dean," he said, still looking at me, "She's the one from the diner. But she looks completely harmless. Let her go."

The one named 'Dean' still stared at me as if I just killed his parents and he was out on the prowl for revenge as he let me go. And that's when they noticed the small knife I had in my left hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might be posting another revised and fixed chapter before I decide to sleep :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, another chapter revised and much better than what it was

They both jumped back in suprise, but I just looked down at my hand confused, before replying softly, "That's-uh-that's new," and dropped it to the ground as it clanged on the concrete, "That's not mine."

"What the hell?", the one called Dean said as he stared at me, equally confused.

I looked down at my shoes, unable to look up at their staring eyes boring into my soul, "I don't know," I looked up at them, "But I could ask you the same thing."

"Oh no, no, no," Dean said, moving his hand with sass written all over his face, "You stole his wallet--technically, 3 cards and about," He looked to his acquaintance for help, but he just shrugged," How ever many dollars in cash. We want it back--now," he said, holding out a hand.

Oh no.

They started at me, waiting.

Just waiting.

Oh God no.

I couldn't move a single muscle.

This is not happening.

Oh Hell no.

The tall one shifted uncomfortably, but 'Dean' held his eye contact with me.

Oohhh shit.

And here it is ladies and gentlemen: my number one fuck-up of all-time. Maybe I'm a little rusty--well, pretty fucking rusty--when it comes to pick-pocketing. I should have practiced first--wait, can you practice doing such a thing?

'Why did I have to steeaaallll', I thought to myself. I was so done at this point. Maybe I should just grab my important belongings and just hitch-hike across the country. Just give up on trying to be so civil--God, that sounds so weird; I would rather be a vagabond, with no ties, and lead a criminal life, than to deal with this kind of a screwed-up situation.

Yeah, I'm stressed. I could use some 'me time'.

"I--I don't--what--I can't--and--because, it's just," I stuttered, getting confused looks from both of them.

"And why did you keep on saying my name?" the sasquatch asked.

"I'm sorry, what?" I asked in complete confusion, raising a hand to shield my eyes from the sun.

"My name? Sam? When you were on the phone with your friend Sav or Savi, or whatever it was?", he raised an eyebrow at me.

"I--but, that wasn't--no, hang on, wait a sec," I put my hands out in front of me and closed my eyes trying to calm down as my voice shook.

"Please," I said, shakily and unsteady," just--just let me start from the beginning. I never meant for it to go this far. Just please, listen. That's all I ask."

I opened my eyes and their expressions had changed from kill-the-puppies to hey-we-shouldn't-be-such-great-big--

"We're listening," Dean said, crossing his arms in obvious annoyance, while the one apparently called Sam just stood there with his hazel eyes that told so many stories without the need of words.

I cleared my throat, and began, "Well, um, I'm (Y/N). I live here," I signaled to the apartments behind me," because I dropped out of college, ran out of money, and this is all the further I got to getting back home. I've been to--," I paused, not sure if I should tell them this next part.

"Well," Dean said, "Go on, still waiting to hear your perfectly good reason of why you needed to attempt to pickpocket my brother."

Brother? Dear Lord this gets better and better, I swear.

"I've, um, been to jail for stealing in the past. And by past I mean years and years ago. I've..," I closed my eyes and bit my lip,"..been trying to make ends meet, and I work, so hard, and only get an average of 4 hours of sleep, and I haven't been able to pay rent," I put my hands on my head with my elbows resting in front of my face, on my nose, "and I saw your car, and figured you were rich, so I took the chance, and now it backfired dramatically, and you're probably going to press charges, and I don't need that on my record again, and now I'm rambling on like some crazy person because I'm panicking," I waved my arms off of my head and dramatically moved them in front of me, then let them rest at my sides as I opened my eyes.

"And-and, I stole your wallet and took some things out of it, then started walking back here, and I knew I was being followed, so I called up a friend, and I swear I just came up with old acquaintances names as I went along, because I was panicking then. And then I could hear you guys behind me, so I checked in the reflection of my phone. And then suddenly you guys were gone. And then I got here, and then you guys were here, and now we're all standing here. Here, here," I said as I started to move my purse in front of me, "Just take them back, just take it all back," I reached both hands in there, but Dean stopped me.

"Woah, woah, woah. No more knives or other harmful objects that you're gonna whip-out?"

I shook my head no because I couldn't talk anymore. I shuffled through my organized purse, because there was basically nothing in it anyways. I pulled out the cards, one at a time, then grabbed the wad of cash I had stolen too, and handed them back to Sam.

I looked down at my feet yet again, in embarrassment and from anxiety, unable to meet their eyes. I could slowly feel my future falling apart at my feet. I sinned again--I probably could have made a deal with my landlord, but yet I sinned instead, just for some paper and plastic that apparently have value. And now I was probably going back to court. And I'll probably have to move yet again. And somehow I'll have to survive.

God I felt so stupid.

I screwed-up.

I cannot believe I seriously screwed-up this terribly.

Just let me melt into a puddle now. Just let me float away into oblivion. Just let me--.

I looked up and they weren't there. They were already at the driveway and walking down the sidewalk to return to their motel.

If only another bath could let me forget everything that has happened today...

I retreated back to the apartment door with my keys now in hand after picking them back up from the concrete. Unlocking the door, I trudged up the stairs to the second floor. I paused at my door, resting my head on the wood and took a deep breath, then sighing. I got a tingling feeling, but I unlocked my door anyways, knowing that it was probably just my anxiety draining away slowly.

I step inside, barely having time for my eyes to adjust to the dimly sun-lit room, because of the curtains I forgot to open, when a shooting pain is coursing through my head and everything goes black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might have some more time to do another chapter, but we'll see ^-^


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this will be the last chapter for tonight :)

Okay, my mind is now racing with millions of questions, such as: Did I serious just get bashed in the freaking head?; Do I now have a concussion [because I'm pretty sure I can't pay the medical bills]?; Who are these amazing people who decided to break-in on the worst possible day of my life?; And do those two men have something to do with it?

Headache.

Ow.

Ow.

Ow.

Now if only I could have stolen some Tylenol, because dear God my head hurts. I'm slumped forward, tied to the single and very lonely chair I had in my small apartment. I can hear shuffling around me, almost like the people are very impatient; cupboards are being opened, only to be slammed closed; empty boxes, papers, bottles, and basically everything else in my apartment is being thrown around.

Are they looking for something? If it's money, then they better go next door--they might as well just leave.

I can feel the rope--or whatever the heck it is--tied tightly around my wrists, abdomen, and my legs, pushing deep down on my skin and I can already feel the bruises and marks forming. I'm still slumped forward, because A) I don't want them to know I'm awake and B) I have--most likely have--a concussion, and this killer headache is not going to feel any better if I want to move.

"Find anything yet?", a female's voice hissed softly from my left, which meant that I was in the poor excuse of a living room, facing the kitchen, and she was over in my bedroom and bathroom to the left.

A loud bang came to my right and I couldn't help but slightly jump from the unexpected noise, making my headache spike up to an even greater pain. Luckily, no one said anything, so I guess no one noticed my small spasm.

"Ain't found shit. And she's damn poor too," a male's voice came from the kitchen directly in front of me; he also gave out a little laugh. Excuse me sir, but I have my necessities, if you have a problem with that, then please leave. Seriously, just please leave people.

My door opened and the person must have been with these two, because the two didn't react quickly to hit them in the head. The sound of boots came closer and closer until I knew they were standing in front of me, staring at me.

Ohhh, don't think about that, don't think about that. I need to keep my anxiety down.

"She awake?", the new voice--male--asked.

"Don't know. She hasn't moved since she got conked-out," the female replied, with the sound of her voice now coming from the kitchen; she walked in silence unlike the other two.

"Well," the man in front of me said," You haven't tried this then?"

The entire right side of my face sparked in pain and I could already feel blood running down my cheek. I flinched from the pain, groaning from the headache, and grunting from the concussion, which just now became more serious. I slowly opened my eyes, adjusting to the new light in the room, and looked up at the three people before me.

"Sleeping Beauty is awake," the man said; his smile radiating of pure evil, "Now we'll know where she hid the amulet. So, where is it," he said, placing his hands on my arms and squeezing them tight, looking me dead in the eye.

He had brown hair and very dark eyes--almost black. His posture and the way the other two acted, proved that he was the leader of this operation. He wore a complete fitted suit with a matching tie and shoes, and also had a piercing on his right eyebrow.

Now the other two, on the other hand...

Both of them were blond with tattoos everywhere on their visible skin I could see--which wasn't much. The man had on a suit, but the woman wore a tube top with a matching skirt and heels. However, they had dark-looking eyes too.

"What...amulet?", I asked, feeling like I was talking through layers hidden in front of me; I had to shut my eyes from the gradual pain in my head.

The man laughed and turned towards his friends, mimicking my pained voice, " 'What amulet?', oh how pathetic you are."

And that only made me recieve another blow to the head. I wanted to cry, to scream, to shout at all of them, but I couldn't. I forced myself to stay strong and not break so easily; my strength of will was the last thing I had up my sleeve to use to my advantage--or maybe it would be used against me.

"Oh, by the way," the man in front of me took my face in his hands as he bent in front of me," How are those Winchester boys, huh? The hunters? Or didn't they tell you?," he started laughing, "Oh how they try to protect people from the supernatural world. That's right, the monsters, the demons, the ghost; they're all real darling. And us three? Well, let's just say we're something those Winchester boys hunt. Afterall, that's the only reason why they're here--to kill us, I mean. But," he paused for effect," You can be used to our advantage. You have something very powerful that we want--we heard it from the long grape vine of information. So, we'll leave, if you just tell us where the amulet is, or, well," he paused again," You don't want to know what we'll do to you," he finished with a smile.

Well, if my headache couldn't get any worse, it did. Winchesters? Isn't that a gun company? And hunters? Wait, but what about the whole monster thing? Do they seriously hunt monsters for a living? Like, a twisted version of the "Ghostbusters"? And what about an amulet and a grape vine? I don't really know, things are being mixed-up in my head, and I can't think clearly.

The man gets up from his position in front of me to walk over to his friends who are still standing in the kitchen. He talks inaudible to his friends and then all three of them approach me. My adrenaline spikes up and I can't even feel my headache--or concussion--anymore.

"You picked the hard way, sweetheart," the leader said with a sneer.

The female's arm is swinging back and then forward again, towards my face, connecting with my cheek. I cough, feeling blood and busted teeth in my mouth, and spit them all out on my once nice carpeting.

Another blow to my face sends my head back and I feel like fainting so the pain can go away. I blink back the tears and the pain, watching as the leader's arm goes back and then heads towards my face.

But missed.

Missed?

I scowl and squint, confused and slowly dying. He scoffs and tries again, only to miss like the last time. What the hell? The other man, from the kitchen, aims a large fist at my nose. He misses too.

What?

Suddenly, I'm not tied to the chair anymore and I'm on my feet in a single leap. All three are taken back in suprise, which gives me a clear window to attack. Wait, attack?

I'm moving at unbelievable speed. The female is already on the ground--motionless. The two men are trapped in headlocks, kicking at me, scratching at my arms as the life is taken out of them. But then I'm walking to the kitchen, grabbing a knife, and that's when things go a little fuzzy.

*

I was at my apartment--last I knew--but now I'm carrying a single bag of luggage with about 300 dollars in my right coat's pocket, heading east, as if I'm trying to go home. And I am...I think.

I get small visions or flashbacks of about what I did. Including using that knife on the three 'monsters', as they had called themselves--but before I killed the leader of the three, I said something about how I'm the amulet...whatever that means.

I also remember washing off the blood and throwing away my bloodied clothes in the dumpster out back behind the apartment buildings; remembering a glimpse of packing a few things and looking at myself in the mirror, not seeing any blood or a single bruise on me--my eyes also looked like a brighter blue than normal; and I successfully pick-pocketed people on my way to the bus station, collecting my money for the trip.

Now? I'm sitting in the back of the bus already, not feeling a single pain, but feeling the adrenaline still leaving my body--even though it's been a good five hours since I left and since I became an entirely different person within a snap.

Am I scared? Oh Hell yeah; who wouldn't be? I just murdered three people in my apartment! Even if they weren't people and even if I was acting in defense. But, how did I break through those ropes? What did I mean by "I am the amulet"? Why are there so many questions to answer, but yet no answers to the questions? And why am I not in the hospital from a concussion and also the pain of all of these new situations and questions?

I'm still trying to fill in the gaps when I'm getting off of the bus in Kansas. Somewhere in Kansas. Luckily it's nice weather and luckily I don't have to walk too far to get to the motel or the diner, which are both tight across the street from where I'm standing on the sidewalk. The bus pulls away and suddenly I feel like I'm going to be okay for once.

I look around me and finally see a sign that says "Welcome to Lawrence" with sunflowers surrounding the letters. How typical of Kansas. How typical--and very cliché.

*

I'm walking along the sidewalks with my single duffel bag in hand and my purse dangling beside my hip, carrying the most amount of money it had ever seen--and I had ever seen.

The sun is high overhead, burning into my scalp and easily slipping through my very thin clothes. I've already lost track of time, so I decide to just stop at a diner, which is right next to their motel--how convenient for me; the less walking, the better.

I walk through the doors, signaling the little bell above the door to jingle. The single waitress working there, tells me she'll be there in a moment, and that I can find a seat any where I'd like. I nod and give a small smile as I walk to the very far corner, setting down my duffel on the seat next to me as I side into the booth.

I immediately regret sitting here because of a couple of reasons. One, it's that red leather-plastic-y shit, which stick to your legs during the summer--so like now. And two, I'm positioned where I can see everything happening and everyone coming and going--as good of an idea as they may sound, it's not how I usually act--and I haven't been acting right.

Ever since that whole dilemma back at my apartment, including those two brothers and then those monster things, I've been on edge. It's almost like a new door of possibilities opened up--or maybe it's just a door I haven't used in a long time? Either way, or in any way, I've never been this paranoid or stressed before.

The waitress finally comes over and takes my order. Since it's been such a long week already, I pleasure myself with a fitting meal of one of their greasy hamburgers with a side of fries, and a simple water. Hey, have to even things out, right? Pfftt, who cares probably going to die soon anyways--.

Okay. Where did that come from? I sat in confusion with my eyebrows scrunched up, in deep thought. Why would I be dying any time soon?

Am I foreshadowing my death right now, like, what the Hell man?

Will I have to kill more of those monsters?

Will I have to travel from place to place, stealing to stay alive?

What is happening?

The waitress comes back, carrying my water and side of fries, sending me out of my deep train of thoughts--and thank God for that.

"Here's your water," she said as she set it down in front of me, "and here's your side order of fries. Burger will be out in a minute," She smiled as she turned and left.

I took a sip of the water, feeling the refreshing liquid make its sloping way down my throat, but also tasting the nastiness of contaminated city water. Eww.

I set it back down, making a face, and proceed to slide my fries in front of me, which didn't have any salt on them. I sighed, trying not to get so easily annoyed as I grabbed the salt shaker and put a numerous amount on my fries, smiling slightly to myself.

As I dived into my fries, I looked around me, as if taking surveillance for information. An elderly couple was sitting on the opposite end of the diner and I could feel their stares every once in a while. Besides them, it was just the waitress and two cooks back in the kitchen.

I looked outside, squinting from the sun. There was a old Cadillac, belonging to the old couple sitting alone in the parking lot. That is, until, a black Chevy pulled up into a parking stall, and I almost spit-out my fries everywhere.

I panicked. Somebody-stole-my-baby panic. I-might-faint-on-the-spot panic.The waitress had just set my burger down, but I quickly asked her if I could take it to go. As she walked her way back to the counter to grab a box, I pulled out a twenty--which was more than enough to cover the bill--I grabbed my duffel, quickly threw my leftovers into the box she had just barely set down, double-checked to make sure I had everything I came in here with, and then ran out the second door next to me.

Thankfully, I was a few seconds ahead of the brothers as I ran out the diner to continue my trek. I decided to just grab a room at the motel because I could use a shower, and plus this burger doesn't deserve to go to waste. I ran up to the front desk, panting, while I asked for a room. I threw down some random cash and forcefully grabbed the key from the poor man's outstretched hand.

I half-ran/half-jogged down the long hallway, finally reaching my room and locking myself inside. I couldn't help but feel that I was forgetting something--something far too important. I shook it off as just the lasting symptoms of anxiety as I threw my duffel bag down on the floor and jumped on the bed to finish my food in somewhat-peace.

I could feel the years slowly falling off as I took each bite into this greasy burger, soon finishing it until my hands were a mess--and probably my face too. I jumped off of the bed and went to my duffel, fishing out some pajamas, even though it wasn't even supper time--but I didn't plan on leaving until check-out tomorrow.

I sighed and walked into the bathroom, looking down at my phone and seeing it was almost to the point of death. I growled as I had to dig through my duffel to pull out my charger and plug in my phone before I could march back into the bathroom.

*

After 40 minutes in total, I finally exited the steaming bathroom behind me, with my hair still slightly wet, and feeling completely comfortable in my shorty-shorts and long-sleeve shirt--with no socks, of course.

I laid-down on the bed, grabbing the remote on the nightstand and turned on the TV. I flipped through hundreds of channels, finding a couple of movies to watch for the next few hours.

And that's exactly what I did.

Inbetween watching, I dried my hair as best as I could as I put it in a messy bun on top of my head. I washed my face, forgetting to do so in the shower, and eventually settled back down on my bed.

Until I had to use the bathroom, but when I stepped out, the two elderly people--who were at the diner--were now standing in my room, next to my bed, wearing evil sneers.

I sighed, feeling my adrenaline kick-in again, and it felt like a whole other side of me took over...

And then I blacked out.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated this chapter finally.
> 
> I know I haven't been posting as frequently as I used to, but, I've been having to deal with my own personal problems and my own battles, so, yeah.
> 
> But please, do enjoy, and hopefully I will be posting more later on today [considering it's 12:08 AM]

When I came to, I was laying on the carpeted floor of the motel room. I felt the rush of adrenaline in my veins, even though I had passed out hours ago. I slowly sat up with my eyes scrunched closed, feeling a splitting headache. I rubbed my head, feeling something on my face. I cracked open my eyes, holding back screams of terror.

The carpet was covered in blood, with trails leading into the bathroom. There were a few splatters on the walls next to me, and I quickly rushed up to look at myself in the mirror above me. I gasped, looking at my horrid complexion. Dried blood of different colors were coating my face, hands, necklace, clothes--every part of me was covered. A glint in the mirror caught my attention, and I turned around.

There, laying forgotten on the bed, was a knife--a machete even. I yelped in suprise and in confusion and in pain. I didn't own any type of harmful weapon. And secondly, did I--did I use this on that elderly couple?

I sidestepped from my spot next to the mirror and ran to the bathroom. I took in the gruesome sight placed before me as I took in the two lifeless forms in the bloody bathtub. I grabbed the wall for support as I slowly sank to my knees, crying and sobbing aloud.

I finally released a scream as I raked my hands through my stiff hair. I slowly got to my feet, still unable to look away from their bodies. Their dead bodies. The deaths I caused. I killed these people. I'm a murderer. A cold-blooded killer.

Suddenly, the door is being kicked down by two men--those same to men I've been trying to avoid--as they have guns drawn. I lose hold of the wall, falling, falling, and falling to the ground, losing consciousness.

*

I remember the pain. A burning pain. A hungry pain lusting for blood. And I gave in so easily. The knife seemed to form to my hand perfectly as I killed those two monsters. Yes, they were monsters, because I remember what they really looked like, because I could see their true forms.

I had attacked, pulling a knife virtually out of thin air, slicing them to bits as they tried to attack back--but for them, it was pointless and completely useless. I could see the light leaving their hideous bodies, as I dragged them into the bathroom and dumped them into the tub. I was wearing a smile. A smile! I had become so evil...

I thought back to my first attack, as I had carved them up too. But they were monsters right? I had valid reasons to kill all of them, didn't I? Didn't I?

There was so much blood everywhere. Just blood. The red. So much red. Red everywhere.

I woke up. Screaming. A hand lightly slapped my cheek as I was being shaken fully awake by large hands. I sit up, eyes wide open, slamming heads with another person. I grab my head from the pain as it adds onto my headache, which still hasn't gone away.

"Oh. I am so sorry," I recognize the voice as...Sam, wasn't it? He was sitting in a chair next to the bed I was in--I wasn't in my motel room anymore.

I looked around me, but I didn't know where I was. I panicked, yet again.

"Where am I?" I asked a little more frightened than I had hoped for, feeling my courage completely wiped-away.

He gave a small chuckle, looking around the room before resting his eyes back on me, "You're somewhere safe. That's what matters."

He put his hands on the armrests of the chair and got up, before looking down at me, "C'mon, I'll show you," he reached his arm out for me to take his hand.

I couldn't help but recoil, and immediately regretted it, "I'm sorry.."

"It's alright. You can trust me," he said with promise in his eyes, "You'll be okay."

A few seconds passed and his puppy dog eyes basically forced me to grab hold of his hand as he dragged me out of the bed. I looked down, noticing I had on different clothes--loose fitting sweatpants and a baggy plaid shirt; clearly, these had to belong to one of the brothers, but most likely Dean. I let out a little gasp, but Sam recovered me.

"Oh. Yours were, well, they were coated in blood. But don't worry, didn't see a thing."

My cheeks flushed, but thank God the room was somewhat dark. He lead me out the door into a long hallway and I blindly followed. We reached a kitchen, with a wonderful smell of greasy food coming from within. My stomach growled and Sam looked back at me, smiling.

"Yeah. You're probably hungry, been out for a few days."

We continued down the hall to a library of sorts with bookshelves lining the walls and strange and ancient artifacts adorning them.

"How long is a few days?" I asked him, releasing my hand from his gentle hold and crossing my arms over my chest.

He turned around and looked me in the eyes, "Today is Wednesday. You can do the math."

I stared at his back as he turned around, with my mouth wide open, as I found out I had been out for at least 2 days. 2 days!

He pulled a chair from one of the desks and gestured for me to sit, which I kindly did.

"Be right back," he said as he headed back towards the hallway, "Gotta tell Dean that our guest is awake."

I huffed in annoyance and put my head on the cold, wooden table with my hands at my sides, sighing deeply.

As I waited for Sam and Dean to get back to me, I suddenly remembered I had called my friend, but then never got back to her about my "two extra materials". I had called her early that Saturday, but now it's been about half a week since then. She must be so worried sick! She's probably hanging up MISSING posters everywhere and making the police run rampant across Utah.

"Fuck..." I mumbled to myself, with my head still on the table with my hair fanned out across the table, "She is going to kill me."

I groaned, both from my stupid mistake and also the headache that was starting to come back. Luckily, the need to kill something wasn't pumping through my blood...yet.

I could hear the two men's talking coming closer, along with the smell of food. Their feet and boots padded loudly on the wooden floor as they entered the little library and made their way towards me.

"Is she okay?" I heard Dean ask, with concern in his voice. Wait, concern? Since when did he care about me?

"Oh shit," I heard Sam grumble, as they both picked up their paces to get to my side.

I groaned, holding a thumbs-up before they could get to me or speak, "Just peachy, guys, just peachy. Have any Tylenol? Maybe some alcohol too? And no," I interrupted any of their thoughts before they could interrupt me, holding up one finger for effect, "It's not too early to have a drink."

They stood there, and I could determine they were wearing confused faces while staring at me, but I didn't want to raise my head to find out. Dean then started laughing and headed back towards the kitchen as Sam took a seat next to my left, putting a hand on my shoulder.

"You sure you're okay? C'mon. Sit up. Eat something," he nudged me a little and gave a soft chuckle.

I slowly lifted my head, squeezing my eyes closed because I started feeling the headache kick-up even more. I rested my head on my hand and my elbow rested on the table for support. It took my will-power to stay silent as I was finally able to force my tired and hurting eyes open to behold the greasy mass in front of me. Yes, I'm talking about the burger.

Although it was somewhat small, with its' mass of meat, lettuce, tomatoes, and the works, it was going to take me hours to eat this, maybe even days. I don't exactly have a supportive stomach at the moment, and I would hate to ruin their beautiful flooring and table in the process.

Dean finally walked in, holding a bottle of medications in one hand, and a brand-new bottle of whiskey, wearing a smile on his face. Wait, is it safe to take meds with alcohol? Eh, probably not, but I'll probably die soon anyways...Wait, what?

"Stop," I mumbled to myself, earning concerned looks from both of the brothers as Dean sets down his prizes on the table in front of me.

"What?" Dean asks.

"Hmm," I look up at him and squint, feeling the light burn my eyes, and quickly look back down, defeated, "Nothing. Just really hurts," I say as I rub my head for effect. And it works. Phew.

"Here," Sam scoots the burger closer to me, "And," he reaches over to grab the pill bottle, and shakes two into his hands and sets them next to my plate, "Take those, with I guess, this," he grabbed the whiskey bottle and poured a little into a glass, also setting that down.

I raised an eyebrow,"That it? I can handle my alcohol, Sam. Trust me. I've had a rough life," I rubbed my head, as I heard Dean laugh yet again. What's up with this guy? How am I suddenly buddies with this-this, person who has hated me since the beginning?

I grabbed the two white pills, popping them in my mouth and shooting them down with the full swig of whiskey. It was a slight burn, but I was used to it. I held the now empty glass in my hands, feeling their seperate stares on me.

"Are y'all just going to stare and be creepy, because stop, it's very uncomfortable," I pinched the bridge of my nose, longing for the pills to take their impact.

They mumbled apologies as Sam put his legs under the table, no longer facing me. Dean also took a seat across from me at the table, already diving into his food. I looked down at my own greasy burger, feeling slightly queasy, but I forced myself to take a few bites. I motioned for Sam to pour me another drink, which he kindly obliged in doing.

*

About an hour later, Dean and Sam were still sitting with me in the library as I was halfway done with my burger and about one-third of the way done with the bottle of whiskey. They weren't sitting next to or across from me anymore, but they were still in the vicinity, talking away while Sam was typing on his laptop at superspeed.

I couldn't exactly hear what they were saying, since I was getting a few strange buzzes from the mix of alcohol, Tylenol, and greasy, homemade food. I had pushed my plate away a few minutes ago, unable to continue, and had my head resting on my arms with my eyes partially open. I tapped my finger on the table, to keep myself awake and also to let them know I was still here, breathing, trying not to die.

I tried to keep my mind busy too. I thought back to my spouts of adrenaline, which led me to attack in self-defense. I know I had my simple pocket knife in my one pair of jeans (where ever it is now), but where on earth did I get a machete? And what's with the whole, 'I'm the amulet' dealy-o? Why haven't I attacked others out of the blue like this? What triggered all of this?

Okay, so then I just skipped town and started heading east, and I ended up in Kansas, right? I had stolen money along the way too? To pay for my necessities? And then I was at that diner, minding my own business when these two...gentlemen, pulled up in their car. I then ran out and went to the motel, and then that elderly couple was in my motel room? And then..I must have blacked-out or fainted, because then I came to, covered in blood, with everything around me covered in blood.

That machete then, was on my bed too, sticky with blood. And then those trails into the bathroom, where I found the two..bodies in the tub. I had screamed from the built-up emotion from the past few weeks, and then suddenly, my door is being kicked down by these two.

Then, oh then. Then I wake up here, at this strange mansion-thingy, blindly trusting these two to keep me safe...But from what? They don't know what I am--Wait, would could I possibly be? I'm human. Right?

"...even listening?" I heard someone ask.

"Pfft. Is she even awake?" I heard Dean ask and chuckle.

It felt like I was floating on the borders of vivid consciousness and a pit of sleep. But it was probably just the continued feeling I was getting from my consumption of alcohol. I wanted to speak, maybe just twitch a little bit to let them know I was still awake, but I was just so tired. And the pit of sleep was just too tempting at this point...


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I'm back with a revised and fixed chapter
> 
>  
> 
> I'm also working on my "Angel Wings" short story, so there might be an update for that one today.

When I came to, I was laying on the carpeted floor of the motel room. I felt the rush of adrenaline in my veins, even though I had passed out hours ago. I slowly sat up with my eyes scrunched closed, feeling a splitting headache. I rubbed my head, feeling something on my face. I cracked open my eyes, holding back screams of terror.

The carpet was covered in blood, with trails leading into the bathroom. There were a few splatters on the walls next to me, and I quickly rushed up to look at myself in the mirror above me. I gasped, looking at my horrid complexion. Dried blood of different colors were coating my face, hands, necklace, clothes--every part of me was covered. A glint in the mirror caught my attention, and I turned around.

There, laying forgotten on the bed, was a knife--a machete even. I yelped in suprise and in confusion and in pain. I didn't own any type of harmful weapon. And secondly, did I--did I use this on that elderly couple?

I sidestepped from my spot next to the mirror and ran to the bathroom. I took in the gruesome sight placed before me as I took in the two lifeless forms in the bloody bathtub. I grabbed the wall for support as I slowly sank to my knees, crying and sobbing aloud.

I finally released a scream as I raked my hands through my stiff hair. I slowly got to my feet, still unable to look away from their bodies. Their dead bodies. The deaths I caused. I killed these people. I'm a murderer. A cold-blooded killer.

Suddenly, the door is being kicked down by two men--those same to men I've been trying to avoid--as they have guns drawn. I lose hold of the wall, falling, falling, and falling to the ground, losing consciousness.

*

I remember the pain. A burning pain. A hungry pain lusting for blood. And I gave in so easily. The knife seemed to form to my hand perfectly as I killed those two monsters. Yes, they were monsters, because I remember what they really looked like, because I could see their true forms.

I had attacked, pulling a knife virtually out of thin air, slicing them to bits as they tried to attack back--but for them, it was pointless and completely useless. I could see the light leaving their hideous bodies, as I dragged them into the bathroom and dumped them into the tub. I was wearing a smile. A smile! I had become so evil...

I thought back to my first attack, as I had carved them up too. But they were monsters right? I had valid reasons to kill all of them, didn't I? Didn't I?

There was so much blood everywhere. Just blood. The red. So much red. Red everywhere.

I woke up. Screaming. A hand lightly slapped my cheek as I was being shaken fully awake by large hands. I sit up, eyes wide open, slamming heads with another person. I grab my head from the pain as it adds onto my headache, which still hasn't gone away.

"Oh. I am so sorry," I recognize the voice as...Sam, wasn't it? He was sitting in a chair next to the bed I was in--I wasn't in my motel room anymore.

I looked around me, but I didn't know where I was. I panicked, yet again.

"Where am I?" I asked a little more frightened than I had hoped for, feeling my courage completely wiped-away.

He gave a small chuckle, looking around the room before resting his eyes back on me, "You're somewhere safe. That's what matters."

He put his hands on the armrests of the chair and got up, before looking down at me, "C'mon, I'll show you," he reached his arm out for me to take his hand.

I couldn't help but recoil, and immediately regretted it, "I'm sorry.."

"It's alright. You can trust me," he said with promise in his eyes, "You'll be okay."

A few seconds passed and his puppy dog eyes basically forced me to grab hold of his hand as he dragged me out of the bed. I looked down, noticing I had on different clothes--loose fitting sweatpants and a baggy plaid shirt; clearly, these had to belong to one of the brothers, but most likely Dean. I let out a little gasp, but Sam recovered me.

"Oh. Yours were, well, they were coated in blood. But don't worry, didn't see a thing."

My cheeks flushed, but thank God the room was somewhat dark. He lead me out the door into a long hallway and I blindly followed. We reached a kitchen, with a wonderful smell of greasy food coming from within. My stomach growled and Sam looked back at me, smiling.

"Yeah. You're probably hungry, been out for a few days."

We continued down the hall to a library of sorts with bookshelves lining the walls and strange and ancient artifacts adorning them.

"How long is a few days?" I asked him, releasing my hand from his gentle hold and crossing my arms over my chest.

He turned around and looked me in the eyes, "Today is Wednesday. You can do the math."

I stared at his back as he turned around, with my mouth wide open, as I found out I had been out for at least 2 days. 2 days!

He pulled a chair from one of the desks and gestured for me to sit, which I kindly did.

"Be right back," he said as he headed back towards the hallway, "Gotta tell Dean that our guest is awake."

I huffed in annoyance and put my head on the cold, wooden table with my hands at my sides, sighing deeply.

As I waited for Sam and Dean to get back to me, I suddenly remembered I had called my friend, but then never got back to her about my "two extra materials". I had called her early that Saturday, but now it's been about half a week since then. She must be so worried sick! She's probably hanging up MISSING posters everywhere and making the police run rampant across Utah.

"Fuck..." I mumbled to myself, with my head still on the table with my hair fanned out across the table, "She is going to kill me."

I groaned, both from my stupid mistake and also the headache that was starting to come back. Luckily, the need to kill something wasn't pumping through my blood...yet.

I could hear the two men's talking coming closer, along with the smell of food. Their feet and boots padded loudly on the wooden floor as they entered the little library and made their way towards me.

"Is she okay?" I heard Dean ask, with concern in his voice. Wait, concern? Since when did he care about me?

"Oh shit," I heard Sam grumble, as they both picked up their paces to get to my side.

I groaned, holding a thumbs-up before they could get to me or speak, "Just peachy, guys, just peachy. Have any Tylenol? Maybe some alcohol too? And no," I interrupted any of their thoughts before they could interrupt me, holding up one finger for effect, "It's not too early to have a drink."

They stood there, and I could determine they were wearing confused faces while staring at me, but I didn't want to raise my head to find out. Dean then started laughing and headed back towards the kitchen as Sam took a seat next to my left, putting a hand on my shoulder.

"You sure you're okay? C'mon. Sit up. Eat something," he nudged me a little and gave a soft chuckle.

I slowly lifted my head, squeezing my eyes closed because I started feeling the headache kick-up even more. I rested my head on my hand and my elbow rested on the table for support. It took my will-power to stay silent as I was finally able to force my tired and hurting eyes open to behold the greasy mass in front of me. Yes, I'm talking about the burger.

Although it was somewhat small, with its' mass of meat, lettuce, tomatoes, and the works, it was going to take me hours to eat this, maybe even days. I don't exactly have a supportive stomach at the moment, and I would hate to ruin their beautiful flooring and table in the process.

Dean finally walked in, holding a bottle of medications in one hand, and a brand-new bottle of whiskey, wearing a smile on his face. Wait, is it safe to take meds with alcohol? Eh, probably not, but I'll probably die soon anyways...Wait, what?

"Stop," I mumbled to myself, earning concerned looks from both of the brothers as Dean sets down his prizes on the table in front of me.

"What?" Dean asks.

"Hmm," I look up at him and squint, feeling the light burn my eyes, and quickly look back down, defeated, "Nothing. Just really hurts," I say as I rub my head for effect. And it works. Phew.

"Here," Sam scoots the burger closer to me, "And," he reaches over to grab the pill bottle, and shakes two into his hands and sets them next to my plate, "Take those, with I guess, this," he grabbed the whiskey bottle and poured a little into a glass, also setting that down.

I raised an eyebrow,"That it? I can handle my alcohol, Sam. Trust me. I've had a rough life," I rubbed my head, as I heard Dean laugh yet again. What's up with this guy? How am I suddenly buddies with this-this, person who has hated me since the beginning?

I grabbed the two white pills, popping them in my mouth and shooting them down with the full swig of whiskey. It was a slight burn, but I was used to it. I held the now empty glass in my hands, feeling their seperate stares on me.

"Are y'all just going to stare and be creepy, because stop, it's very uncomfortable," I pinched the bridge of my nose, longing for the pills to take their impact.

They mumbled apologies as Sam put his legs under the table, no longer facing me. Dean also took a seat across from me at the table, already diving into his food. I looked down at my own greasy burger, feeling slightly queasy, but I forced myself to take a few bites. I motioned for Sam to pour me another drink, which he kindly obliged in doing.

*

About an hour later, Dean and Sam were still sitting with me in the library as I was halfway done with my burger and about one-third of the way done with the bottle of whiskey. They weren't sitting next to or across from me anymore, but they were still in the vicinity, talking away while Sam was typing on his laptop at superspeed.

I couldn't exactly hear what they were saying, since I was getting a few strange buzzes from the mix of alcohol, Tylenol, and greasy, homemade food. I had pushed my plate away a few minutes ago, unable to continue, and had my head resting on my arms with my eyes partially open. I tapped my finger on the table, to keep myself awake and also to let them know I was still here, breathing, trying not to die.

I tried to keep my mind busy too. I thought back to my spouts of adrenaline, which led me to attack in self-defense. I know I had my simple pocket knife in my one pair of jeans (where ever it is now), but where on earth did I get a machete? And what's with the whole, 'I'm the amulet' dealy-o? Why haven't I attacked others out of the blue like this? What triggered all of this?

Okay, so then I just skipped town and started heading east, and I ended up in Kansas, right? I had stolen money along the way too? To pay for my necessities? And then I was at that diner, minding my own business when these two...gentlemen, pulled up in their car. I then ran out and went to the motel, and then that elderly couple was in my motel room? And then..I must have blacked-out or fainted, because then I came to, covered in blood, with everything around me covered in blood.

That machete then, was on my bed too, sticky with blood. And then those trails into the bathroom, where I found the two..bodies in the tub. I had screamed from the built-up emotion from the past few weeks, and then suddenly, my door is being kicked down by these two.

Then, oh then. Then I wake up here, at this strange mansion-thingy, blindly trusting these two to keep me safe...But from what? They don't know what I am--Wait, would could I possibly be? I'm human. Right?

"...even listening?" I heard someone ask.

"Pfft. Is she even awake?" I heard Dean ask and chuckle.

It felt like I was floating on the borders of vivid consciousness and a pit of sleep. But it was probably just the continued feeling I was getting from my consumption of alcohol. I wanted to speak, maybe just twitch a little bit to let them know I was still awake, but I was just so tired. And the pit of sleep was just too tempting at this point...

*

I felt the soft covers around me and the feeling of rejuvenation of many hours of comforting sleep. I looked at the clock on the nightstand next to the bed, and it read in bright blue lettering: 1:27 PM. Wait, how long have I been sleeping?

I sat up, not feeling the headache or queasiness any more as I tried to recall what day it was. Maybe even what year it was.

"Okay," I whispered aloud, "It was...Wednesday, in the early afternoon," I gasped with wide eyes, "Did I sleep for a day!?" I silently shouted to myself. I let out a 'hmff' as I crossed my arms over my chest and scowled.

Well, at least I got my beauty sleep...Just too bad it can't add a little beauty.

Someone was coming up the stairs, but somehow I knew it was Sam--call it instinct if you must. He appeared in the doorway, grabbing onto the door frame with one hand as he swung into the room and turned on the lights, partially blinding me for a few seconds as I put a hand up to shield my eyes.

"Glad you're up. You've been sleeping for a long time now. C'mon, grab your clothes, hop in the shower, there's a few people we want you to meet," he said cheerfully.

I sighed, rubbing a hand down my face and swinging my legs over the side of the bed, walking towards my duffel, which was sitting on the lonely desk in the room. I fumbled around, loking for something mostly decent to wear as I walked over towards Sam, who showed me to the upstairs bathroom.

Before he left, I called out, "Hey," he turned around.

"Yeah?" He asked.

"Just make sure there's some more of that whiskey downstairs?"

He laughed, "Yeah, sure thing," he turned back around to head down the stairs," Just don't take too long," he called over his shoulder, disappearing from sight.

I smiled and shut the door, turning on the fan as he had shown me. I stood in front of the mirror as I stared to undress, taking in my form. Aside from a few healed cuts here and there, I looked like my usual self with heavy bags under my eyes--like always.

I ran a hand through my absolutely disgusting hair, trying to untangle the knots before I stepped into the shower, which was now running. I sighed, giving up, and took my place under the warm streams of water running across my body, watching the minutes tick away.

*

By the time I was finished, I was dressed in my dark blue jeans, which hugged my thighs and hips because they were a little small (tight budget, duh) and a red and black plaid shirt, which was unbuttoned at the moment because I was trying to braid and dry my dripping-wet hair.

Finally feeling somewhat-but-not-confident in my composure, I exited the steaming bathroom with my dirty clothes in hand, which I just threw on the floor of the room I occupied before heading down the stairs.

I came to the landing and heard the talking coming from the library area, which is where I decided to head--not to mention, I was starving, so I was probably going to make a stop in the kitchen first. But, that's when it got bad.

I barely stepped for into the library and four sets of eyes were on me. Yes, F-O-U-R. There were Dean's and Sam's green and hazel eyes, which I knew, but then there were bright blue and orange-brown eyes also staring at me. What did I do THIS time?

I slowly stepped closer to their stances at the table, feeling the heat rise to my face as I released a breath I didn't know I had been holding.

The blue eyed one was wearing a tan-gray trenchcoat with a suit and a matching tie underneath--very formal for this kind of...event, huh? The brown eyed one just had on a pair of blue jeans and t-shirt, looking completely casual and slighlty confused.

"We need to know about you. About what happened at your apartment, and also the motel room. Now," Sam demanded, now looking and sounding very frightening, when he had been all smiles earlier.

"I..." I paused, trying to recall everything," After I had returned your possessions," I motioned at Sam, "I went to my apartment, and I-I got knocked out. I came to, and there were these three...people, in my apartment. And I don't know, something happened, and then I just left," I rubbed my head,"I came to Kansas on a bus, no clue on where I was headed, but I picked a motel room close by from the bus station. And then there're these two-two other people in my room, and, I-I don't know, okay!" I half shouted, "I don't know what happened, I don't know what I did. But next thing I know, I come to, and there are...two dead bodies in a bathtub, and I'm drenched in blood!"

"You're missing a few pieces," the one with the blue eyes said, squinting, "What about the amulet?"

"Wha--What amulet? There, hasn't been, an amulet," I frowned in confusion.

"What about the amulet," he asked again.

"The ones from my apartment asked me the same question. I don't know about an amulet."

"What. About. The. Amulet," he enunciated.

I lost control, right then and there, and suddenly a different part of me is taking over and I slam a palm on the table, making a fracture across the wood as I shout, "I don't know what that means, Castiel. There has never been an amulet in my possession."

I breathed heavily, slowly raising my hand from the table, looking at the damage I caused. I looked up at the man, who I somehow--deep down--knew was called Castiel. He looked shocked, as did the other three, and I don't know if it was because of my Hulk-force strength or because I knew this one by name. Probably both.

"What the hell," I mumbled, barely audible as I looked at my hand, which was undamaged.

Nobody said anything and nobody moved--not a twitch of a muscle or a gasp or comment to be shared. Just silence and a lot of staring--at me.

"Can't somebody, just please, tell me what the hell is going on here?" I freaked, slightly shaking, feeling an urge build up inside of me, ready to burst at any second if someone pissed me off.

"Tell us everything you know so far. Right now," Dean threatened, even more intimidating than Sam.

I grabbed the table, feeling it squish together from the stress of me gripping it tightly. I shrieked and backed away, staring, panting at the damage.

"Un-uh," I said, on the verge of panic, "First, you tell me what the hell is going on with me. I am not normal, and I am very far from being okay."


	8. Author's Notes

Hey everyone!

I've realized how often this short story is read, sooooo, I'm going to try re-writing it and also add some new chapters.

However, I've been working on a mini-series, and I hope to have the first section posted by December...hopefully.

If you would like me to continue 'Angel Wings', or any other short story I've posted, let me know.

Also, any AU ideas are accepted.

 

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!


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